The graveyard on the very outskirts of the village seems like it's always wrapped in a perpetual fog, the worn-down tombstones and thriving flora wrapped in its misty embrace. As if mother nature herself is acknowledging all the loss and sorrow this place has seen. And yet something feels...off. The occasional shuffling of feet or strange clatters can be heard nearby.

Within one of the small nearby crypts, a low chuckle echoes faintly from within. Dietrich's ever-present smile never seems to waver as he gathers a multitude of corpses, each one in different states of decay. A soft purple glow begins to emanate from his fingers as he muses to himself.

"Perfect. Soon everything will fall into place..."